


Attempts Were Made

by WaldosAkimbo



Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [18]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Crack, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), M/M, Possession, major character death because erics are involved, that's up to you and your heart, who knows what Aziraphale has, you mean Eric the disposable demon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:00:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29494713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaldosAkimbo/pseuds/WaldosAkimbo
Summary: To possess a demon. With another demon! How many tries can we make and how many disposable demons can we go through? The answer may surprise you. Or it may not!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Quick and Dirty Good Omens Crack or Drabbles [18]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1789003
Kudos: 4





	Attempts Were Made

The first time they get it done, it’s but a finger and it’s _brilliant._ A tempting curl, a twitch, before the connection severs and there’s a wonderous little explosion. Bits and pieces flying off. A fluffy stalk stuck to someone’s chest like an antennae, wiped away with all the care of pushing away some lint. One of them even smears the streak of dark oily ichor off his cheek and sucks his thumb like it’s cherry sauce. And they all, together, raise a fist and shout before clasping hands and redrawing their marks.

The second time they manage a connection, it’s the whole hand. Fingertips to palm, which they prove by making a fist. Whatever he was holding, he has to catch it in his other currently free hand and he gives a strongly worded curse to his fist which comes out very close to, “Oi! What the hell!” He regains control in seconds and wrings his hand out, like it’s been bit by a nasty little bug.

This one explodes again. Full bag of wet and bone and it goes *pop* so quickly, like a balloon, their guts the confetti, and they all celebrate like it’s exactly just so, some giggling, others hushing them before one of their superiors wanders by and tells them to shove off, probably biting one of the peripherals heads off. Literally. Their giggles turn to snorts and sighs and they fix the sigils again. One must get them just _perfect._ Hopefully.

The third time, Crowley’s sitting somewhere with a touch too much holiness, to the point it feels like it’s filling him up. They can’t _see._ They don’t have the eyes under control, but they can feel some sensation around the lower half and force an anchor on his hips instead of his hands. The great Demon Crowley groans, so low and guttural that two of the Erics in the center can feel it in their chests and they fall against each other, suddenly weak at the knees.

 _“Fuck._ ….No, hold on….”

Whomever he’s talking to, they can’t quite hear. Hips don’t have ears, you know. Not Crowley’s anyways, but they _can_ feel the sensation of fingers pressing hard against the malleable bone of his corporation and several of the Erics feel a bit fluttery, one of them biting his knuckles so hard it bleeds for fear he’s about to cry out for some reason.

“For fuck’s sake, le’go,” Crowley orders and the connection is lost again, just when several of the Erics have discovered there’s a little _something_ stirring with _something_ between their legs. Not even mites this time, though the tingling could be a cousin of the sensation. Either way, the possession doesn’t stick and their central Eric arches his back, makes a very peculiar noise that none of them understand as pleasure, and goes the same as the first and the second. _Pop._

Cut off from that very strange warmth, the Erics take one look at each other and shove a new one at their little mess of symbols and attempt to possess Crowley again. For science. Of course. It was a test to see if a demon could even *be* possessed by another demon, which so far had been Absolutely Not and Who Would Even Try, except that Crowley was quite different now after, well, Certain Non-World-Ending-Events and nobody explicitly _told_ them to try it, but one Eric or another got the idea and, clearly, they had the manpower to make attempts.

They quickly rewrite some scripts and link hands and their Eric in the center launches his essence back up. Not the eyes. Not the hands. Not the hips. But each one of them _feels_ something and they seem to snap together as Crowley, who has gifted himself some unique anatomy, snaps together. It’s warm and they feel completely compressed, the world dark and muted and held and yet building with a pressure that feels like every single one of their bodies is going to be unzipped with electricity. Several of them gasp. Two of them drop to the group, completely limp, unable to meet the crest of whatever this particular sensation is. There’s some sound, some shaking high-pitched sound, and they are held together tighter, seemingly very pleased by this new compression, which is quickly taken away as Crowley’s voice comes in crystal clear.  
  


“—my dick? _Seriously?_ Hold on. No, I’ll be back, promise.”

Their Eric in the center has completely leaked to nothing, quite different from the explosion of the others, but they all sort’ve wish there was an explosion right now, their bodies tense with a need for…something. Too much energy. Too much sensation! They push another demon forward to reconnect when the circle warps and wobbles and out of the ink of their dead Eric rises a familiar impressive figure. Impressive only because of who it belongs to, Crowley’s never really been _impressive._ Handsome and cool and weirdly flexible, but not…okay. Strike that. Whatever that is between his legs is actually…pretty impressive. Several of the Erics are staring and trying to figure it out.

“Listen. Guys? Whatever the fuck you’re doing here, you really need to cut it out. I…wait.” Crowley brushes his hair out of his face, looking down and lifting a foot out of the puddle of their comrade. “How many did you spend on…never mind.”

“What were you doing?”

“What _was_ that?”

“Crowley!”

Crowley hissed through his teeth and held his hands up. “Easy. Calm down. Were you really trying to possess me? Guys.” He gave them a chastising look, which worked fairly well on them. Not as well as being set on fire, but Crowley always did have an amazingly softer touch. It’s probably why so many of them liked him. “You have to stop. Okay? What is this, even? No. I don’t care. Knock it off.”

“But—”

Crowley wagged a finger and they went silent again. He glared at them a little, shook his finger once more, snapped when he noticed too many of them were staring directly at his crotch, and added, “I’m warning you,” before he disappeared again.

They waited ten minutes to see if there was any weigh to the threat, and tried again.

It was dark, which excited them, and it was quiet, which excited them more. They pressed in together, waiting for that new sensation, when there was something soft and gentle pressed to Crowley’s forehead and then a new voice. They must’ve gotten the ears this round.

“Excuse me.” Every one of them flinched away as they realized it was that _angel_ talking directly to _them._ “But I’m afraid this body is currently occupied and you need to vacate. I didn’t agree to a public event this evening and you’re being very rude. If you don’t, I will see to it personally that you regret stitching an inch of yourself to Crowley. Good day.”

This time, Eric didn’t explode. He didn’t melt, he didn’t burn in self-immolation. He just…woke up. And rubbed the spot where Aziraphale had kissed their forehead, looking around a bit confused.

“D’you think he was serious?” one of them whispered.

They each shared a long look, a few shrugs, and worked together to scrub the markings clean, destroying their work.

A few weeks later, however, a few of them came back and adjusted the lines, pushing into the possession ring. For all of two seconds, and then five of them opened eyes and mouths and ears and noses of light, silently shouting an answer, before they blinked right out.

\---

Crowley looked up from his phone as Aziraphale burped, a little coil of smoke slipping between his lips, followed by a giggle and then a pout. “Thought I told them,” he muttered to himself before returning to his book.

“Told who what?”

Aziraphale glanced up and hummed, raised his eyebrows. He shrugged, which Crowley found annoying, and refused an answer, which Crowley found *more* annoying. But there was a little tickle in his pinkie, the slightest sign of almost-possession, and he rubbed it almost affectionately before they got back to their respective past times.


End file.
